Feels Like Coming Home
by StopTalkingAtMe
Summary: 'After Castle Point, Missouri, it was clear that something had changed between them.' After coming to terms with the loss of her husband, Roberta Warren takes her relationship with Charlie to the next level. Sweet, sad and smutty one-shot, set between 'Home Sweet Zombie' and 'Resurrection Z'.


**A/N: Set between 'Home Sweet Zombie' and 'Resurrection Z'. Rated M for sexual content. For those of you who like a little extra smut with your smut, there's an unexpurgated version of this story over at AO3.**

 **As ever, all comments are appreciated. I love concrit, but even just a heads up that you enjoyed it would make my day. I hope you enjoy it.**

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 **Feels like Coming Home**

The Z came out of nowhere, lurching from the dining room, but it was slow, no threat at all. Roberta took it out with her knife. She felt Charlie's gaze on her as she drove the blade deep between its eyes. The zombie crumpled on the carpet, and still she refused to look at him.

After Castle Point, Missouri, it was clear that something had changed between them.

She was tired of being watched. Every look they shared, every time he held her gaze for a fraction longer than was strictly necessary. Every time they brushed against each other, the touch of his skin against hers no longer feeling accidental, but deliberate. It felt like the goddamn world was standing still, and she couldn't take a breath. Murphy would say something, and she'd want to slap his smart-ass mouth, because couldn't he see she was trying to concentrate on Charlie? Trying to listen to him breathe?

"I'll check the bathroom," she said, starting up the stairs. Charlie didn't answer, but she could feel his eyes on her back, and she gritted her teeth together. _Damn him,_ she thought. _Why doesn't he do something?_

Behind her she heard Charlie following her up the stairs, checking the other rooms.

Roberta stopped by the open door to a half-decorated nursery. The walls were cornflower blue, and someone had started a forest-themed mural. The effort and the love on display made her heart ache. She turned away.

Nothing much useful in the bathroom cabinet other than some spare razor blades, a pack of band-aids, a box of aspirin. And a pack of prenatal vitamins.

She took everything except the vitamins. Then she picked them up again, stared down at the pregnant woman on the pack. The swell of her belly. Her serene smile.

There was a noise in the doorway behind her. She closed the cabinet, saw Charlie reflected in the mirror. Watching her. "Roberta?"

God, the way he said her name when the others weren't around. Low, almost hungry. It set her to wanting... Well, she wasn't sure. She met his gaze in the mirror. Saw her hunger reflected in his eyes.

"We were thinking of trying for a baby," she said.

"You and Antoine?"

"Yeah. Can you imagine, me with a baby? One of the few things we ever fought about," Roberta said. "That boy wanted a baby so bad."

"And you didn't?" Charlie asked.

"Only thing that ever really scared me," she said, and he laughed.

"I don't think I believe you were ever scared of anything, Roberta."

And again. Her name on his lips.

She drew in a breath, feeling a hunger rising up through her. A feeling she'd been resisting for a long time. She knew Charlie was lying, because going home? That had scared her. More than anything. And he had known that.

He'd known because he'd been through it himself, only he had been given the chance to say goodbye. To his wife, his kids; to the life he'd led before. His Pre-Z world. He'd mourned and he'd passed through to the other side, tempered by suffering and stronger than before. But Roberta? Part of her had still been stuck in day one, half-believing that she would wake up one day and find Antoine waiting for her at home with a bottle of wine and his African peanut chicken stew for dinner.

And wasn't that why she'd been avoiding Castle Point? Because she'd wanted to preserve that illusion for as long as she possibly could. Because she knew that Antoine wasn't waiting for her.

He was dead and neither of them were ever going home again.

"Are you all right, Roberta?"

She turned and faced him. "That's the stupidest damn question anyone's ever asked me."

"Yeah, I know. Sorry."

"I was going to say yes."

He frowned, not following her. "What do you mean?"

She held up the vitamins. "To Antoine. I was going to agree to try for a baby. And then..."

"And then the apocalypse happened."

"Mm-hmm." She sighed and threw the packet of vitamins back on the counter. "And now it's too late."

"Is it?" He raised his eyebrows at her and the hunger bit just that little bit deeper. "It's never too late."

"Yeah, it is. Because that ain't never going to happen. I'm not going to _let_ it happen." Because the thought of bringing a child into a world like this, taking the risk of losing them? That filled her with a terror so stark and intense it made her dizzy. She didn't know how Charlie did it.

And was it her imagination or did she see a flash of pain in his eyes? An all-too-brief look of loss. She shifted, uncomfortably. "Charlie..."

He moved closer to her. Too close. She could smell the sweat on his skin. "If Citizen Z is right," he said, his voice low and urgent. "If we can stop this thing..."

"I don't know. He seems to get a lot of shit wrong. Remember the helicopter?"

"Yeah." Charlie sighed. "He's just a kid, I think. But he's all we've got. Him and Murphy."

"Ain't we the lucky ones?" She caught hold of his hand. "You think this is real, Charlie? Don't bullshit me now."

"Yeah, I do. I really do." His eyes were on her. She could feel his blood pulsing in his wrist, the blood beneath his skin. "This is real, Roberta. Don't you think it could be?"

"I don't know," she said, although she wasn't sure what he was talking about, whether he still meant Murphy, or the faint distant possibility of a vaccine, or whatever it was that had been growing between them for longer than she could remember. The thing she'd refused to acknowledge before Castle Point, before she'd come to terms with the loss of her husband, the man who cooked his mom's West African chicken stew for her, who'd made her come harder than she ever had in her life.

She tilted her head back, kissed him hard, hungrily. Because she was tired of just watching and being watched. Charlie hesitated, and then responded, kissing her back. One hand wrapped around the back of her head, the other running up under her shirt to her breasts.

"The bedroom?" she suggested, and felt him go still against her.

"Not the bedroom," he said, darkly. "There's nothing good in there."

"Bad?"

He closed his eyes. "Pretty bad." Roberta shivered and he started to pull away. "Are you sure you want to..."

"Charlie," she said, and her voice was thick with hunger. He turned his head to look at her, and then he was kissing her again, pulling her pants down, slipping his hands teasingly up her inner thighs. She exhaled, pressing her face into his neck as he touched her in a way that made her want to scream. Because, _damn_ , where had he learned how to do that?

It wasn't what she'd been imagining. Her first time in Christ knew how long. Since before day one, and Jesus, had it _really_ been that long? How was that possible? How had she gone without _this_ – or something similar to this, because Charlie was _nothing_ like Antoine – for so goddamn long?

Fast and quick and dirty. Just like everything else in the goddamn apocalypse. Neither of them taking the time to undress completely. The sound of their harsh, hungry breathing. The smell of his sweat filling her world until she couldn't smell anything else, didn't think she'd _ever_ be able to smell anything else, because Charlie had taken over her world _._

Only then he was pulling away and she was gasping. "Charlie? What the fuck you doin'?"

He held something up and it took her a moment to focus on the small square of foil. She laughed breathlessly, wildly. "Where the hell'd you get that?"

He grinned. "This? I've been hanging onto this for a while now."

"Always knew you were a former boy scout," she said. "Give it."

"You sure? Might be the last one we see for a while." But she was already ripping open the foil packet, letting the condom fall into her hand. She let the packet drop to the tiled floor, positioned the condom in place, rolled it down. He sucked in a breath, his eyes heavy-lidded, almost drunk.

 _They'll be wondering about us by now,_ she thought, as she drew him towards her, hooked her legs around his. _Got to be quick; they'll soon come looking._

And that was the last thing she wanted: 10K walking in on them, getting an eyeful. She couldn't face Addy's knowing looks or Murphy's snark. Not yet. This was too new, too fragile. It felt like something being born.

Only she didn't think they'd be much longer. Not the way he was kissing her, and sliding inside her. She gasped, digging her fingers into his back through his shirt. The cold curve of the sink digging into her hip. And then she was coming, thinking, even through the sharp blaze of pleasure, that they were making too much _goddamn noise_. Charlie spasmed against her, panting against her neck, his breath hot.

They stayed still for a few moments, the two of them, sticky and breathless. The scent of sweat and sex wrapped around them, binding them together. Roberta rested her head against his chest. "That was..."

Charlie chuckled. "Yeah. I've been wanting to do that for a while."

Roberta felt the urge to cling onto him as he slipped free of her. She adjusted her clothing as he took the condom off, knotted it and dropped it in the waste-basket. "The others," she said. "Uh..."

He shook his head. "They don't need to know about this. Not yet."

And even though it was what she thought she wanted to hear, she felt a sharp stab of regret. _Don't be a damn fool, Roberta,_ she told herself. _You don't even know what this is yet._

He buckled his pants back up, shooting her a wry smile, maybe thinking, as she was, that they'd been away from the group too long. None of them were stupid.

 _It'll be okay,_ she thought. _Whatever happens, it'll be okay._

Roberta hopped off the counter and caught hold of his arm. "We need to get back," Charlie murmured as she drew him into a hug.

"We will," she said. "In a minute."

Maybe home was less about places than people.

Because now when Roberta thought about where she belonged, it was the truck, reeking of body odour and the the strange not-quite-human taint that clung to Murphy. But every now and then, Charlie would shift position and she'd smell _him_ , the familiar smell of his sweat. The same thing she could smell now as he held her close.

It felt like coming home.


End file.
